A Day in the Life
by S.K.Evans
Summary: To him, no silence is more haunting than the one of an empty house. -oneshot.


**A DAY IN THE LIFE**

**—  
**

To him, no silence is more haunting than the one of an empty house.

The bar is closed for the day. He knows they'll come back right after supper-no need to worry about that.

He can hear every sound, and it makes him flinch every time. Whether it'd be his breathing, the wind howling outside, or the vexing noise of dishes clanking in the sink as he washes them. It doesn't matter.

The snow is swirling outside. It's not dark yet. The roads will probably be icy tonight, if they aren't already. His heartbeat is accelerating. No…he's not worried.

He decides to go upstair. He sits in his office. Of course, there's nothing to do in his office, except for work stuff that should have been done weeks ago. But today's his day off, isn't it? So he shouldn't be working. He picks up the paperwork, anyway. Puts it down.

Strangely, he wishes for the phone to ring.

_How's your day? The kids are doing fine. We'll be back soon, okay?_

It stays silent.

It takes him a while to realize that staring at the phone won't change anything. He spins in his chair and sighs. What a long day.

How long has it been since the last time he was so bored? Maybe bored is a…how should he say-a strong word. Bored is a strong word. He's just feeling…restless.

He spins again. And again. Soon, he gets dizzy. Whose idea was it to invent spinning chairs? They make you wanna puke.

He picks up a book lying on the desk, the only book in the room. It's a manual to the sound system. They've never needed it, so he has no idea why it's still there. He should probably throw it away, but then he stops and puts it back on the desk, where it'll stay for who knows how long, and still be useless. He's incredibly bad at throwing stuff away. Perhaps he should practice a little.

The best way to do so would be to empty the office's closet. He expects it to be full of junk when he opens the door, but it's nearly empty. He's taken aback. But after all, why wouldn't it be. It's not as if he and Tifa brought a lot of old things from Nibelheim. Or anywhere else, for that matter. They've always had to leave everything behind.

There's a knock on the door; he jumps and turns around, heart pouding. His reflexes clearly aren't what they used to be. Peace does that to people, it seems.

More knocking, this time slightly louder. He runs down the stairs, jumping over the last step, like he tends to do. Old habits die hard. He looks through the window. It's an impatient-looking man. Just as he gets ready to unlock the door, the stranger knocks once more.

"C'mon, Strife, I got work for ya."

And you can't call like all the other customers?

He debates whether to answer or not. Finally, "Sorry, no business today."

More angry knocking. "_C'mon_. I need this delivered _today_. I'll pay you double, how about that?"

It does sound tempting, but Cloud still doesn't open the door.

"_C'mon!_"

Talk about one-word vocabulary.

"Okay. But only if it's not that far."

He waits for an answer.

"Won't you at least open the door? Fuck…"

"Oh, right."

Once inside, the man goes to sit to a table. Cloud winces.

"It's to Kalm. Close enough, right?"

Close enough that you can go yourself, asshole.

Today's his day off. Why isn't he surprised that it ended like this.

"Just give me the details. I need to be back early."

The man rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't we all." He writes the address on a napkin.

Minutes later, Cloud watches the man leave, almost forgetting about the package left on the table. But it doesn't go away.

He buries his head in the crook of his elbow.

"Goddamn it…"

* * *

It's past midnight when he parks Barret's old van across the street from the bar. It is, in fact, very old, but it spared them from buying one. Motorcycles in winter are not the way to go.

He falls back into the seat, and passes a hand over his face. Of course he didn't think about the possibility of a snowstorm. And of course his phone had to be out of battery.

Taking out his keys, he unlocks the front door as silently as possible, hoping that nobody is waiting up for him. He sighs when he sees her sitting at the bar. She has a pencil in her hand, but no paper to write on. She's leaning her head on her hand. His entrance doesn't provoke any reaction from her. He approaches her slowly. She stops twirling the pencil at the sound of his footsteps.

"Last minute delivery," he says. "Sorry."

"I thought today was your day off?"

"I was…" Restless doesn't sound right. Bored is a strong word. He takes a deep breath. "I was lonely."

She doesn't look that surprised. He is.

Cloud stands up and takes her hand. "Come on."

She walks with him, but stops at the base of the stairs.

"Tifa?"

He lowers his voice. The kids are sleeping.

"I was worried," is all she says before climbing up to meet him. She squeezes his hand. It's her turn to lead them upstairs.

Me too, he thinks as he follows her.

* * *

"Cloud!" The kids' shout echoes through the house. No answer.

Tifa drops their bags in the entrance. She can feel her heart beating faster and faster.

To her, no silence is more haunting than the one of an empty house.

—

**A\N:** This is the result of insomnia.

Yes, I will update my other stories.

Title is _A Day in the Life_ by The Beatles


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